Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

POTTER STINKS 
flashed once more across the room. 
Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing 
horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do 
the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that 
spider, jerking and twitching. . . . 
“Antidotes!” said Snape, looking around at them all, his cold 
black eyes glittering unpleasantly. “You should all have prepared 

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THE WEIGHING OF 
THE WANDS 
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301 
‘
your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we 
will be selecting someone on whom to test one. . . .” 
Snape’s eyes met Harry’s, and Harry knew what was coming. 
Snape was going to poison 
him.
Harry imagined picking up his 
cauldron, and sprinting to the front of the class, and bringing it 
down on Snape’s greasy head — 
And then a knock on the dungeon door burst in on Harry’s 
thoughts. 
It was Colin Creevey; he edged into the room, beaming at 
Harry, and walked up to Snape’s desk at the front of the room. 
“Yes?” said Snape curtly. 
“Please, sir, I’m supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs.” 
Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose smile faded 
from his eager face. 
“Potter has another hour of Potions to complete,” said Snape 
coldly. “He will come upstairs when this class is finished.” 
Colin went pink. 
“Sir — sir, Mr. Bagman wants him,” he said nervously. “All the 
champions have got to go, I think they want to take photo-
graphs. . . .” 
Harry would have given anything he owned to have stopped 
Colin saying those last few words. He chanced half a glance at Ron, 
but Ron was staring determinedly at the ceiling. 
“Very well, very well,” Snape snapped. “Potter, leave your things 
here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote.” 
“Please, sir — he’s got to take his things with him,” squeaked 
Colin. “All the champions —” 
“Very 
well
!” said Snape. “Potter — take your bag and get out of 
my sight!” 

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
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302 
‘
Harry swung his bag over his shoulder, got up, and headed for 
the door. As he walked through the Slytherin desks, 
POTTER 
STINKS 
flashed at him from every direction. 
“It’s amazing, isn’t it, Harry?” said Colin, starting to speak the 
moment Harry had closed the dungeon door behind him. “Isn’t it, 
though? You being champion?” 
“Yeah, really amazing,” said Harry heavily as they set off toward 
the steps into the entrance hall. “What do they want photos for, 
Colin?” 
“The 
Daily Prophet,
I think!” 
“Great,” said Harry dully. “Exactly what I need. More pub-
licity.” 
“Good luck!” said Colin when they had reached the right room. 
Harry knocked on the door and entered. 
He was in a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been 
pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the 
middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in 
front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. 
Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo 
Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch Harry had 
never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes. 
Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not 
talking to anybody. Cedric and Fleur were in conversation. Fleur 
looked a good deal happier than Harry had seen her so far; she kept 
throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the 
light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smok-
ing slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye. 
Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded 
forward. 

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THE WEIGHING OF 
THE WANDS 
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303 
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“Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in 
you come . . . nothing to worry about, it’s just the wand weighing 
ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment —” 
“Wand weighing?” Harry repeated nervously. 
“We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no 
problems, you know, as they’re your most important tools in the 
tasks ahead,” said Bagman. “The expert’s upstairs now with Dum-
bledore. And then there’s going to be a little photo shoot. This is 
Rita Skeeter,” he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta 
robes. “She’s doing a small piece on the tournament for the